


Nightmares

by orphan_account



Series: Tozier-Kaspbrak [5]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adopted Children, Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Fluff, IT Chapter Two Spoilers, M/M, Nightmares, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Soft Richie Tozier, Tozier-Kaspbrak Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Richie sits back into the couch, letting Lucas lean against him. “I have nightmares too.”A small frown creases along Lucas’ brow. “Really?”Richie nods.“What about?” the boy cocks his head.“Monsters, mostly.”“Are they scary?”“Very scary.” Richie swallows. “But, you know what?”“What?”“I know that I can kick those monsters’ butts,” he says firmly. Warmth settles into his chest when Lucas tries to hide a smile into his fist, where he’s chewing the sleeve of his sleep shirt.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Original Child Character
Series: Tozier-Kaspbrak [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549198
Comments: 14
Kudos: 142





	Nightmares

If he’s going to be completely honest, Richie is pretty darn proud of himself. His biggest accomplishment is the nice, good life he’s carved out for himself with Eddie. Steady, good jobs, a nice house in a nice neighbour, a hoard of children. Not bad considering how his life started.

He’s acing therapy. Once a week, for an hour, a kind woman lets him ramble on with whatever it is that he needs to talk about that week. Sometimes it’s about nothing; odd things that he picked up in the news No wonder therapists need therapists. Then again, he’s pretty sure that he can’t mention the whole _we lived in a small town haunted by some alien-clown-thing and it left some lovely, long-lasting trauma._

But what he can, and does, talk about is that he _lived in a small town that was homophobic as shit_.

With all of his grievances aired out with a woman in upper Manhattan, it doesn’t stop the occasional bump. He knows for a fact that Eddie feels it too; moments in their day, or during the night, when nothing feels particularly right. When doubt starts to creep in.

He gets nightmares. Vivid ones. Ones that hurl him awake and keep him from sleeping for the rest of the night. Ones that make him shake and cry and curl into the body beside him in bed, hoping to God that he doesn’t slip away, that this isn’t some cruel dream. _No, he’s mine. He’s here, with me_ , he’ll almost whisper into Eddie’s hair. Who he aims the words at, he isn’t entirely sure. _You’re not taking him from me_.

Normally, whatever wakes him stays from anything between a few minutes to a few hours. But whatever had woken him now isn’t there when he rubs the last bit of sleep from his eyes. Without disturbing the body draped along his back, Richie reaches out for his glasses, perched on the bedside table. With everything back in focus again, the clock reads 04:32.

 _Jesus Christ_.

Eddie’s arms tighten around him, pulling him back. It’s welcomed, Eddie’s warmth. Even with it being summer, and the days being unbearably hot, the nights can cool very quickly. With most of their thicker comforters kicked to the end of the bed, some of them even lumped on to the floor, all Richie has is a thin blanket and Eddie.

Richie lies his head back down, angling it slightly so his glasses don’t bother him too much. Usually, when he’s woken up, it takes a while to go back to sleep. Most of the time, it’s just his brain making sure that he really is alone; that nothing from his nightmares followed him into the real world.

Within a couple of minutes, when his eyelids get heavy again and he’s almost slipped off to sleep, the door to their room creaks.

Richie’s head snaps up, but his heart slows again when he sees a small familiar figure standing at the portal of the door. Richie rubs his face. “Luke,” he sighs, “what’re you doin’ up?”

Even with the minimal street lighting coming in through the windows, Richie doesn’t see Lucas properly until the boy takes a few tentative steps into the bedroom. He has a stuffed bear caught in one arm, while his other arm is wrapped tightly around himself. Richie frowns when he notices the damp streaks of tears on the boy’s face. As gently as he can, he untangles himself from Eddie’s hold. The other man shuffles in his sleep, moving into Richie’s vacant space as soon as the man has slipped out of bed. Richie grabs a zip-up hoodie from the floor and puts it on. “Come here,” he holds out his hands to Lucas. The boy immediately runs into them. “What’s up, huh?”

“Is stupid,” is the only response he gets. It’s muffled into Richie’s neck as Lucas curls into the man. Richie glances over to his bed. Eddie is still in deep sleep, unconsciously tugging Richie’s pillow to him. As Richie watches the other man settle, he turns and presses a kiss into Lucas’ hair.

“If it made you cry then it isn’t stupid,” he gentles, stepping out of their room into the hallway. The door to the twins room is open, and with a quick glance inside, Richie sighs with relief to see Allie still fast asleep to the other side of the room. The only thing he can do is go downstairs. Adjusting Lucas in his arms, Richie walks towards the stairs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lucas shakes his head. A handful of Richie’s shirt is fisted in Lucas’ hand.

“Okay,” Richie nods, going downstairs and into the living room. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna. But I’m here if you do, okay? Your Daddy is too.” And even though Eddie is pretty much unconscious at this time of night, Richie’s sure that if Eddie saw the state Lucas is currently in, he wouldn’t have any trouble staying awake for the night.

They rifle through Netflix for a bit. Normal cable channels always show weird shit this time of the morning, so Richie pulls up any streaming service he can think of. He lets Lucas pick what they watch. They eventually settle on an old episode of Ben 10. At one point in his life, Richie berated Eddie for the sheer amount of throw pillows and blankets scattered throughout the house. Now that it’s twilight hours, sleep still very much sticking to his bones, he’s relieved that he can at least fashion some sort of nest for both him and the kid still in his arms. He throws one of the blankets over the both of them.

An episode passes in complete silence. When the next lines up, Richie has to peer down and make sure that Lucas hasn’t fallen back asleep. But the boy shuffles against him, bringing his fist to his mouth. For an eight-year-old, it’s a habit that should be gone by now. A doctor in upper Manhattan told them that when he did a physical of both twins. But with the life both of them had before, Richie isn’t too pressed on having them deal with ticks and coping mechanisms they’ve both developed in the time since.

Another episode passes. Sleep starts to creep back into Richie’s bones, making them heavy, but he rubs his eyes and adjusts his glasses. As long as the kid is awake, so is he.

“I had a nightmare.”

The words are so quiet, Richie almost misses them completely. But he feels Lucas’ hide further into him. Richie rubs the kid’s back. “A nightmare?”

Lucas nods.

Richie clicks his tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. They can be nasty.”

“I dreamt that,” Lucas sucks in a breath. Richie doesn’t miss how his tiny hands start to tremble as they reach for the front of Richie’s shirt. “I dreamt that someone came to take us away. They got Allie, and I never saw her again.”

Richie winces. The boy shakes. Eventually, a sob leaves him. “I don’t wanna leave,” he cries, pressing his face into Richie’s chest. “I wanna stay here, with you, and Daddy, and Allie.”

He’s never been good with emotions. At some point during a conversation with a therapist, she had brought up the fact that he uses humour to deflect. And it’s true. It’s useful, being a comedian and all. It makes gathering material that bit easier.

But then, one day, he realised that he couldn’t do what he would do with Eddie with the kids. He could try and make them laugh when they skinned their knees, or slipped on a step on the stairs when they race up too quickly.

But when this shit creeps in, stuff that he’s all too familiar with, Richie swallows and gathers Lucas into his arms. Shakes wrack through the boy’s body for what seems to be too long. Over Lucas’ head, Richie sees the TV show continue to run. Freeing one arm, he turns down the volume until it’s almost silent – but keeps a gentle hum of noise going. “No one is going to take you away,” he says after a time, burying his face into the crown of Lucas’ head. “You and Allie are ours now. They can’t take you away.”

It seems to placate whatever fear is crawling through the boy’s veins for the time being. After most of the crying has been done, and patches of Richie’s shirt are tear-stained, Lucas pillows his head against Richie’s shoulder, turning his head to the side, looking towards the staircase. Peering down at the boy, Richie can see an almost vacant look in Lucas’ eye. He’s staring off into the distance, but not really looking at anything.

He cards his fingers through Lucas’ hair, noting distantly how curly it’s starting to get. “You know what?”

There’s a murmured _what_ into Richie’s chest.

The house is silent, except for the faint hum of the TV in the background. Richie is mindful about how quiet he’ll have to keep their voices, because once one kid is awake, it’ll be over for everyone.

Richie sits back into the couch, letting Lucas lean against him. “I have nightmares too.”

A small frown creases along Lucas’ brow. “Really?”

Richie nods.

“What about?” the boy cocks his head.

“Monsters, mostly.”

“Are they scary?”

“Very scary.” Richie swallows. “But, you know what?”

“What?”

“I know that I can kick those monsters’ butts,” he says firmly. Warmth settles into his chest when Lucas tries to hide a smile into his fist, where he’s chewing the sleeve of his sleep shirt. After a minute, Lucas peers up. Richie sighs. “I know that you can kick butt too. I’ve seen you practising wrestling moves off of the back of the sofa. I don’t wanna be the monster getting you all upset.”

“But,” Richie continues after a time, “if you get scared again, you’re to come to me or your Daddy. Okay? We’ll protect you. You might not need it later on, when you grow up, but know that we’re always here. And we understand.”

Lucas tries his best to hug at his dad, but because of how they’re positioned on the couch, only manages to get Richie’s shoulders. Another couple of minutes of the TV show passes before Richie notices that Lucas has become very still against him. Glancing down, he smiles fondly at the sight of the boy finally pulled back into a restful sleep. Not a nightmare in sight.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: yourqueenforayear.tumblr.com
> 
> Kudos & Comments gladly appreciated x


End file.
